


Reconsider Yesterday

by promiscuouslyCaliginous



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
Genre: Can you hear me crying, Cassiel going down memory lane once more, F/M, I don't remember her real name, Little Knight, M/M, Possible Character Death, The Tulgey Wood, because theyre there, can you see these tears, missing characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promiscuouslyCaliginous/pseuds/promiscuouslyCaliginous
Summary: In the sparse free time the Cat has, he tends to remember. Some things, he wish he could forget, and some memories that just aren't clear enough to remember.





	Reconsider Yesterday

The Tulgey wood was only intimidating if one so let it be. The creatures that inhabited the wood really weren't all that bad, especially if one was one of their own brethren. The paths were marked clearly, if one wasn't a complete diddy they should be just fine. 

And yet, the attention it receives is always so negative. 

The young man sat alone, tucked away in a dark windowsill. The night rung out, though the light of the moon- and his superior eyes- gave it an eerie tint. Rain tilted against the nook window, though unaccompanied by thunder. Thankfully, the man was never one for the deep rumbling he could feel in his roots. Had it been so, he would be long since cuddled up to his partner's side, safe under the covers from the horrid rumble. But the rain was alone on this night, so the man could easily follow the suit. 

He took a sweet sip from his drink, the warm mug resting on his knees as he watched the rain drip down from the windowsill. His tail curled around him, resting on the cushioned sill as calmly as he was. He may have sat on that sill that night, but his mind was already deep in the Tulgey woods, running along with a young girl. 

At the time, they were the same age. A meager six years, running amuck the trees, crossing the paths and the creatures along them. At that time, their cares were obviously invested elsewhere, and anywhere far from here. 

On this particular day, the girl (Jules, he always used to call her Jules) had presented the young boy with a stick she found, receiving only a confused head-tilt from the boy.   
"It's a sword! One day, you'll be a knight, so you've gotta have practice, right?" She chirped, motioning towards the ground with the stick. In the two of their minds it transformed before them, now a gleaming sword in the meager sunlight of the forest. Cassiel gasped and dropped to one knee, bowing his head as a pleased grin came across her face. After a moment she cleared it in favor of a regal expression, clearing her throat before yelling, her voice echoing in the quiet clearing, "Cassie Valentine-"  
"Jules, you have to use my real name!" He hissed the interruption, ears folding back against his head as he peeked up. Jules gave him a mock-cross look and whapped him in between the ears with the stick. "Hush, you. I've only watched one of these, and I'm in charge." She grumbled, ignoring the pained hiss from the boy. 

"Cassiel Valentine-" she continued, "We are gathered here today as a celebration of your training."  
"What training?"  
Another whap, along with a quiet yelp and a "Hush!"   
"We are here in celebration of your training, so now you're a knight. Don't go to sleep this time." She said seriously, raising the sword to gently tap both of his shoulders, right to left. "You may rise and accept your sword."   
Cassiel stood up rubbing the top of his head, a displeased pout on his lips as he took the sword from Jules. "If you're done with the accolade." He huffed, letting both hands by his sides. "Are you playing the bad guy or the princess this time?"  
"A baddie! And you shan't catch me this time!"

And with that, they were off. Racing through the trees, swatting sticks at each other whenever the boy caught up, and laughing even as the both of them tripped over their own feet. 

 

A few years later and their games were the same, though much more grown up, in their humble opinion. At the age of ten, the pair of them had names and backstories, theories and ideas for the plots of their make believe.   
On this evening, The White Knight stand in face to the wretched thief of the crown, notoriously known (to just them, of course) as the Obstreperous Queen, their swords glinting in the dulling sunlight.  
(Cassiel had convinced- read; begged- Cook to dull down a few swords from the study for them to play with. They never really swung at each other, unless it was scripted and practiced for the big fight, that would simply be preposterous!)

"We meet again, Knight." The Queen sneered, sticking the point of her sword into the dirt. The knight growled under his breath and held up his hand for a pause- Jules immediately dropping role to wait as Cassiel pulled a pin from his pocket to pin his hair out of his face. He waved his hand to resume, steadying his sword before him.   
"For the last time, I should hope." He growled back, the pair stalking forwards in the dirt.   
The Queen laughed, her voice high and cruel as it rang out. The Knight gave an uneasy thrash of his tail, brow furrowing in confused concentration.   
"Not quite, little cat. For you see, I will not die by your hand, not on this day. Nor many, many to come!" She giggled. The Knight bared his teeth and rushed forward, barely giving the Queen time to snatch up her sword to block. 

 

Another two years, and Jules was able to spend less and less time with the boy. Some days he would wait on the rock in their clearing all day, drowsy in the sunlight and trying to stay awake. She would not be pleased if she came and the boy was already asleep, no sir.   
One day, one fatefully, dark day in the forest, the boy waited. It was nearly night by the time the girl came, twigs in her hair and face scratched up. She choked out a sob as she reached the boy on the rock, tumbling into him as the pair of them fell off the rock. Her grip on his arms was like a vice, pressing her face tight into his shoulder as he tried to make out what she was sobbing. 

"They- mum an' da, they got-" She sobbed. Cassiel could feel the tears soak through his thin shirt, the fabric already hanging off of his frame as it was. In the distance he could hear the rumble of angry footsteps, his ears perking up in alarm.   
"Who? Jules, who is coming?" He asked insistently. When there was no answer he struggled to stand under her weight, wretching her from his front and holding her shoulders tight.   
"Jules!"   
No answer, of course. He whined under his breath as he heard the footsteps closer, taking her hand tight in his and sprinting off through the forest without another word.   
The pair of them ran, ran faster than they ever had in their short twelve years of life, and for naught. 

It was only a matter of time before the footsteps caught up, Jules screaming as one of the Cards grabbed her arm, the one not connected to Cassiel. He halted in his step and grabbed the arm he had, snarling at the man in the suit as he yanked the girl. The boy dug his nails into the skin of her arms, and his heels into the ground and pulled back with all his strength. The card just laughed as Cassiel felt a sharp yank on his tail, pulling him off the girl as the same arm snaked around his middle and lifted him off the ground.   
"Julia-"   
"Cassiel-!" Came cried at the same time, Cassiel fighting for every scrap he was worth to get away from the man holding him. He yowled like a feral cat, turning and tearing into the man's arm and face with his teeth and his nails. He could hear Jules' cries carried away, his own sobbing gradually replacing his screaming, until he went still in the Card's hold, the adrenaline in his system finally run it's course. 

He awoke back in his clearing, littered in little scratches and blood that wasn't his own. Jules was still gone, and would be for the next few weeks.   
After a month, he just stopped walking to the clearing. He stayed back at home- or what he called home, he was always unsure whether he really had a place there, of course- in the study, pacing and sleeping when he could. That was, before Cook discovered him home and sat him down with a book. 

 

A young man was seated in the nook of a place he would proudly call home, sipping at the tea in his mug in the dead of night. He gave a quiet sigh into the mug as he set it down, rubbing at his eyes. It would be years later, far into when he could accurately find the information, until he found out what happened to his best friend. Her village had been under siege by the Queen of Hearts, and the women and children taken prisoner until the Queen deemed them for execution or work force. Jules had been kept in the female's working force for two years, before they found her body in the rafters. 

 

Grim and dulling to find, I know. It wouldn't be a story if it was all peaches and cream, would it?


End file.
